Unwritten
by jellybellybean101
Summary: THE Shane Gray is forced to keep a diary, like Mitchie Torres. Even worse, they unknowingly become pen pals. Will romance blossom behind these unspoken words? Find out as the hearts of Shane and Mitchie are revealed. Smitchie.
1. Chapter 1

**Unwritten**

_A tale of two hearts, and the unspoken words between them._

**Chapter One**

**(**Normal- Shane**, Bold- Mitchie, **_Italics- letter_**)**

I can't believe my mother is forcing me to write in a dumb diary like a teenage girl. She says that it will 'control my temper, and a private place to voice the flow of your thoughts and emotions, where you can sort through them.' Basically, it's for anger issues, an issue that does not plague me. Anyway, even if I do, my many friends and admirers don't mind. My mother also says I should treat my friends better. I swear, she wants to turn me into a smart aleck geeky guy with no friends, which is the complete opposite of me, THE Shane Gray.

**I am ecstatic that my mom suggested me keeping a diary! I haven't had one since fifth grade, when "Miss Popular," aka Alex, stole it and read it to the class. Let's just say I haven't been too popular since then. But, then again, I never was. I mean, I'm very social- I think- but apparently not enough, or too much, for everyone, because I have one friend. But it doesn't matter, because I don't need popularity or beauty (They say I'm not attractive, too,) when I'm perfectly happy with my one friend and a library full of books, as well as a place FAR away from the spotlight.**

Everyone loves me, and yearns to be me. I know it's hard, having to live in the wake of the all perfect SHANE GRAY- well, actually, I wouldn't know, I'd just have to guess. After all, I am him, and he is me. But I hate those wannabes who act like they're the best!

**I hate people who are hypocritical and brag at every chance they have. Especially if they are well known and famous- people look up to and admire these figures. However, those who have the "ultimate pleasure" to "stand within a five mile radius of my very presence" of these celebrities (like Shane Gray, whose words were just used,)** **know the real them, and only they realize what a jerk that person, and how terrible it is to take advantage. But, of course, I wouldn't happen to **_**know**_** anyone like this, besides maybe oh- SHANE GRAY!**

There are people, of course, who even dare to oppose me- THE Shane Gray! I mean, who could dislike me, I'm SHANE GRAY, for crying out loud! Oh, well I can name maybe one person- MITCHIE TORRES!

___________________________________________________________________________________

Thursday, April 11, 2009

And now, of course, today at breakfast, my mother, feeling that keeping a "diary" (Eurgh! The evil word, which makes me seem like a teenybopper gushing with emotion. And 'journal' sounds like I'm some insane author or reporter. So I will use the perfectly safe word 'notebook.') isn't inflicting enough pain upon me, insists that I now will converse with a "pen pal." (Another evil word.)

While wolfing down my poached eggs with a side of buttered toast at the breakfast table, she advanced on me, plopping down on the chair across from me. "Shane," she began fondly, laying her hands over mine cautiously, fearing an outburst at her coming words. " I was thinking, last night…" Oh, no! I thought sarcastically, as she trailed off, mumbling the rest. What devil idea will she lay on me next? "Andmaybeyoucangetapenpalanditwouldbesocool!" she rushed, waiting for my reaction expectantly. (And excitedly, and hopefully.)

And the outburst came. "What!" I exploded. "NO! NO! NO! I'm not a wimpy, pansy, girl. That's stupid, and it's not like I am in dire need of fri-" I halted, mid-sentence, half-way out of my chair, as my mother's face fell, her gentle features crestfallen.

I wanted to say no, I really did. But, as much as I don't want to admit, I have one single weakness- only one, mind you. And it's my mother. Okay, two- my mother and little sister. Don't you dare tell that to anyone! Oh, wait, you are a diary. Never mind. It's just… too easy for them to get hurt. Both named Alexandra, they are similar in many ways- bright spirited, a joy to everyone, naïve, too open. It is my job to protect them, partly because dad is never around to do anything. And I can't refuse them- as much as I hate it.

So, somehow, someway, THE Shane Gray ended up sitting at his desk, pen in hand, staring at a blank sheet of paper. I had no idea what to write, I mean, what do you say to some random stranger, whom you know nothing about, before saying you're THE Shane Gray? (I had to make a deal that I wouldn't reveal my true identity.)

At a loss for anything else, I lamely scribbled:

_Dear whatever the heck your name is, _

_You have no idea how much I don't want to do this. It's my dumb mother's fault. I mean, why does my dumb mother have to go and be so weakening? Not that she's my weakness- I don't have any._

_So, uh… have a good day? Or don't? I don't really care. Hope it doesn't snow._

I, after awhile, decided to leave not a name, but initials. I signed "S.J.G." with a flourish, then left the room.

Now, I'm on the couch, extremely bored, waiting for dinner. There's nothing to watch on my flat screen besides golf and crummy soap operas, and I lost my laptop. (Lame, right?) I have a feeling my annoying brother, Nate, stole it.

I can't believe I'm writing in this notebook, but, I swear, it is my last resort. And I'm only writing so much, which makes my hand ache, because I don't want to do my algebra, and Jason, my other brother, is doing my other homework, I swear. (Again.)

I must, sadly, (Not), stop writing. Steak and potatoes with gravy awaits,

Shane


	2. Chapter 2

**Unwritten**

_A tale of two hearts, and the unspoken words between them._

**Chapter Two**

**(**Normal-Shane, **Bold-Mitchie,**_ Italics- letter_**)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock, its characters, and anything else associated with Camp Rock. What a shame.

**Thursday, April 11, 2009**

**I awoke last night, lying on my stomach. Though my face was buried in the pillow, I could smell a faint burning smell. I sat up, sniffing the air tentatively. And, sure enough, there was the smell of fire. FIRE!**

**I leaped out of bed and raced down the stairs, feet pounding on the stairs, much like my heart. I crossed the living room to find my father joining me. He ushered me through the front door, and I spotted my mother outside in her robe, shivering.**

**As I stepped over the threshold, and dashed toward my mother, I glanced behind me, at the raging fire, flitting through our house, charring wood and breaking glass. I gulped back tears, and felt a lump in my throat.**

"**Mommy!" I cried, as she enveloped me in her arms. I sobbed into her arms, soaking her fuzzy robe. Rubbing my cheek against it, I knew I couldn't look back at my house, couldn't bear to see the damage done. **

**My dad soon joined the hug, and we consoled each other, ignoring the blaring sirens and several fire trucks driving towards our house. And we were so wrapped up in our hug that we missed the firefighters rushing into our house, dragging huge hoses behind them. **

**We didn't, however, while standing in the chilly April night, the "**_**whoosh**_**" of extinguishing fire. We all jerked out of the comforting embrace and stared at our home. There was no light, no tell tale red flames of the fire. **

**And, as I was amazed to see, our house was still intact. Nothing was badly damaged, besides a shower of sooty ash covering our house. **

**We were all speechless. I felt myself tearing up at the sight, at the sight of which we were so lucky. A pure miracle had occurred on Goldenthal Road, as the shining rays of light streamed through the trees.**

**And my mother, father and I watched the sun rise, arms linked, as the firefighters conversed hurridly to us, then packed and left, in their big red fire trucks. Yet we stood there, rejoicing in the sheer close call, and in the beauty of the sun.**

**Uh, yeah- and pigs fly. Nope. My life isn't nearly that interesting. I don't don't that it even has the capacity to become exciting. More like, "I woke up at the crack of dawn, with my brother shaking me roughly, cackling. I groaned, then hit him with a pillow. He, in turn, flicked the lights on, making me shut my eyes in pain. I opened them again, to be greeted with another twinge of pains, until my eyes adjusted to the sudden light.**

**I don't have a perfect life, let me get that straight. I'd like to think so, and I try to stay positive, but it's difficult when I am constantly being picked on, and made fun off. Yet I manage to show off an outside that make's it seem like everything's fine and dandy.**

**But- I won't be popular anytime soon, won't be a successful musician, won't share a passionate kiss with my true love under the sunset.**

**True love, Ha. That's what I keep hoping for, what I would wish for when a shooting star flashes by. I have always hoped that somewhere out there, in a world of more than 6 billion people, someone will like me for me. See past the ugly shadow cast upon me. **

**But the chances I will find true love at Riordan High School are a million to one. It is very improbable that, among the hundred or so students at the school, who pretty much all despise me, one will walk up to me and ask me to be their girlfriend. Out of the guys, I mean.**

**So I just hurry through school, head down, hoping that no one will notice me and tease me, and, at the same time, though, I hope that people **_**will**_** notice me, for who I am. And at lunch, I sit at the table amidst all the others, though close to the door, so I won't stand out but can easily make a break for it. Sierra is the only one who accompanies me everywhere, my only friend. We have fun by ourselves, yes, but I still direly yearn to be popular, to be looked up to, not to be, **_**for once**_**, the smashed bug on the edge of the windshield of life.**

**School was terrible. Just another miserable day on the calendar of my life. We were given loads of homework, the giver of my torture, Alex, had put a live snake in my locker, and we got back a huge social studies exam, which I got a C on.**

**Work at Barney's Burgers wasn't much better. Alex with her boyfriend Shane Gray were there, and, of course, I slipped bringing their food to the table. I messed up several orders, and my boss shrieked at me in front of the entire resturant. All in all, to put it simply, I was a total wreck.**

**I barged in the front door of my house and yelled a vague greeting to its occupants. I snatched a banana from the kitchen counter, poured some unappetizing, bad smelling, dog food into my beagle, Molly's bowl, and dashed upstairs to do my homework.**

**I finished two hours later, and, until five, when my mom would arrive home, spent the time in my bedroom, writing music in my yellow notebook. Yes, I want to be a musician. Ever since I was born, I knew I wanted to sing. As my mom wheeled me down Main Street in my carriage, I would hum happily, screaming out my own invented tunes.**

**But I never wanted anyone to hear me. That's why, when I compose my own music, or practice my guitar, I bolt my bedroom door. And why I blush deeply and change the topic when (If ever) someone praises me.**

**At dinner, I listened to my parents' meaningless chatter about meanignless topics, like the absurd commericals for verizon wireless, or the shoe in contestent to win American Idol, or how recently, everyone on our block had adopted lawn gnomes. I, on the other hand, just sat there, staring monotonously at my plate, pushing my steak and potatoes around my plate.**

**Then, abruply, my mom chnged the topic of disscusion from yogurt containers and glanced at me. **

"**Oh, honey," she began exciteldy. "I fofgot to tell you! I signed you up for a penpal! And you received a letter in the mail today!"**

**I couldn't help but smile at her happiness. I mean, maybe I could find a friend in this penpal! Maybe, (If it was a guy, of course,) I would even find true love! **

**Or… maybe not.**

_Author's Note:_

_Yay!!! I am so sorry that it took this long to update this story, but I've been busy. But that's not an acceptable excuse, I know. _

_I am so glad you guys love my story! I mean, if you do. But I want to know what you think about this story! How can I make it better? What can I change to make it more to your liking?_

_You might feel that the Mitchie in the first chapter is nothing like this Mitchie. Well, now you can see past the illusion of her having a perfect life. You'll get to see her reply to Shane's letter in the next chapter._

_I hope this chapter won't disappoint you!_

_Special Thanks to: xNoor (I'll mention a reviewer in each chapter.)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Unwritten**

_A tale of two hearts, and the unspoken words between them._

**Chapter Three**

**(**Normal-Shane, **Bold-Mitchie,**_ Italics- letter_**)**

Disclaimer: I was a president of the United States, met the Jonas Brothers, wrote a bestselling novel, flew to the moon, had an adorable puppy, starred in a movie, saw the third National Treasure though it didn't come out, and found a genie lamp. Oh, and I own Camp Rock. Wait, this isn't a list of what we want? Nevermind.

**Friday, April 12, 2009**

**I suffered through the rest of dinner, then hurridly exused myself, claiming I felt ill.**

**I retreated to my room, where I again locked the door. I lay on the bed, intending to play my guitar and finish the verse in my song, but found it difficult to keep my eyes open. My eyelids weighed a ton, and my brain kept wandering from the song.**

**I fell asleep, still in my clothes, gutair in hand. I slept peacefully, dreams full of long, heartfelt letters, and a mysterious boy, whom I'm sure was very handsome- if I could see his face. **

**But I couldn't. His face was emmersed in the shadow, and all I could see of him was a vague outline of a person. I stepped toward him cautiously. I advanced closer, and closer…**

**I was so close! I felt the heat radiating from his body, and my whole body was filled with longing. I reached my left hand out, slowly, and touched his shoulder lightly.**

**But once I did, I cried out in surpise and sadness- he had vanished! He was enveloped in the dark cloak of blackness.**

**And then- I fell. My eyes were closed, and I opened them, to see where I was, to find that it was just as dark with my eyes open. The cold air rushed up to meet my face, and I recoiled, closing my eyes again.**

**So I did the only thing I could do- scream.**

**I woke up from a dream for the second time; this time, of my own accord. There was no little brothers looming over me, cackling gleefully.**

**In fact, I was completely alone. My room was dark, besides the flourescent numbers, reading 4:19 AM. I groaned.**

**So I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until 6:15, when I would have to get up to get dressed for school. I pondered over the mysterious penpal, writing to me. It wasn't until the block digits turned six o' clock that I realized I never read the letter.**

**I got up in a hurry, throwing my door open and dashing down the carpeted stairs. I began to search for it near the front door, and found everything ****but**** a penpal letter- birthday cards, catalogues, bills, junk mail about ****Moe's Lawn Service.**

**I cried in frustration, then realized where it could be. 'The kitchen counter!' I thought excitedly, running to the kitchen.**

**There I found it, lying innocently, held in place by a salt shaker so as not to be blown around he room by the spinning fan.**

**I tore open the envelope eagerly, then tossed it aside to read the letter. It read:**

_Dear whatever the heck your name is, _

_You have no idea how much I don't want to do this. It's my dumb mother's fault. I mean, why does my dumb mother have to go and be so weakening? Not that she's my weakness- I don't have any._

_So, uh… have a good day? Or don't? I don't really care. Hope it doesn't snow._

_From, _

_ S.J.G_

**I finished reading, my mouth open in disbelief. I let go of the letter, leaving it to flutter to the linoleum tiled floor. I let out a strangled sob, then joined the letter on the floor, leaning against the dishwasher.**

**So this is who I held my expectations so high for? **

'**This person doesn't even care,' I angrily realized. It was early April- there would be no snow! In fact, there had been only one snowstorm, in the week after Christmas!**

**I turned the single white sheet over, searching for another message. Perhaps this was all a joke! But there was only that sixty- five word response. (**_**A/N- Don't go counting it now!) **_

**With a heavy heart, I trudged upstairs and sat down at my desk, reluctantly beginning to write a response. It was amazing how quickly my attitude had changed to this stranger- this jerk.**

_**Dear S.J.G,**_

_**What is the matter with you! How can you go insulting a person if you don't even know them? You haven't even met me!**_

_**I actually want to write to a penpal, I mean, wan-ted. With this one letter, you turned my whole attitude around.**_

_**Suprisingly, it didn't snow, in the middle of April! It hasn't snowed since the day after Christmas, when there was three feet of snowfall trapping relatives inside other's houses.**_

_**I did not have a good day, thanks to you. Someone put a snake in my locker- not that you'd care.**_

_**So, let's both pretend to enjoy this, and let me ask you some questions- oh, who am I kidding, you probably won't even care. I'm going to go and scream into a pillow, in hopes of regaining my old attitude.**_

_**Not-so-sincerely,**_

_**Michelle**_

**I signed with my real name, Michelle, then looked over my response, smirking. I would never be able to be so brave with someon elike this face to face, but, in a letter, I felt much more confident. Besides, this guy had no idea who I was.**

**I put the letter in an envelope, then gave it to my mother, who smiled fondly at me. **

"**How is your penpal?" she asked, taking the letter.**

**I wanted to cry into her arms, telling her how horrible S.J.G was, and how no one loked me. But I didn't. I fed her a lie about how he was already such an amazing friend, and how I loved her so much for coming up with this idea. I felt terribly guilty, but it would break her heart if I told her the truth.**

**I couldn't disappoint her. So I put on a smile and pretended I liked my penpal- it's amazing what a smile can fool people into.**

Friday, April 12, 2009

Today was a lovely day, as usual. Yesterday was great too. But anyway, why everything in my life is going perfect: no letters from my dumb penpal, and a very beautiful girlfriend, Alex.

And Nate and Jason decided to not rag on me today. Whoohoo!

Oh. I just remembered one bad thing in my perfect, beautiful life in this perfect, beautiful world- english.

One word to sum up English. Interesting, and not in a good way. It is terribly boring, and taught by the weirdest guy you will ever meet- Mr. Caraway.

He's this short, balding man, always dressed in various costumes reflecting his love for Shakesperean plays. His eyes are hugely magnified by glasses to large for his face, and he talks in a loud, exaggerated dramatic voice. Adding his tongue flying out of his mouth when he talks, he looks like a giant bullfrog.

But if that's not zany enough, the walls of the classroom are adorned with posters of his favorite hockey team, the Washington Capitals. And we live in New Jersey. And, to top it off, there is a bobblehead of each of the Capitals players, as well as figures of Taft, his favorite (and fattest) President jammed in every space possible.

The point was, that Mr. Caraway spilt us into pairs, assigning us an essay about a Shakespearean play and why it's our favorite. A seven page essay. The worst thing is, Mitchie Torres is my partner.

MITCHIE TORRES! Uh huh. A complete disaster.

_A/N- Here's the next chapter- hope you enjoy it!_

_Oh, those who favorite and story alert my story, please review and tell me what you liked about my story. Thanks!_

_Also, I'm writing another, non-fanfiction story. I need characters, and if you want to be in it, PM me, and I'll send you a questionaire. But also tell me about yourself. Anything, even weird, irrelevant things! Thanks!_

_Just letting you know all you reviewers out there- thanks so much! You always put a smile on my face- keep it up!_

_And, also, I'm looking for a beta reader! Thanks again, all you wonderful people!_

_-jellybellybean101_


	4. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Unwritten**

_A tale of two hearts, and the unspoken words between them._

**Author's note:**

_**I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry I haven't updated, and this, sadly, isn't a chapter.**_

_**I have just been REALLY obsessed with American Idol this season, and Kris Allen is (well, was,) my favorite.**_

_**AND HE WON!!!!!!!!!!! EEEP!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG, I'm so happy. So I'll be happy dancing for awhile. And then I have to get back into fan fiction obsession. And my best friend's birthday thingie is this weekend, and her birthday is next weekend.**_

_**These aren't good excuses, and I'm SO sorry. Again. But I promise, once my American Idol obsession starts to fade, I'll get that new chapter up right away. **_

_**It might take awhile, but be glad he didn't lose, because then it would take TWICE as long.**_

_**But, Eeep! I am so so so so happy! I can't believe he won! I'm gonna go happy dance again.**_

_**Love and hugs, and thanks and sorries,**_

_**Jellybellybean101 (thanks again for reading, and being great readers!:) **_

_**(if you want, you could go check out Kris Allen's music, or, if you want, don't.) **_

_**Toodles, and sorry again!!!!!**_


	5. Chapter 4

**Unwritten**

_A tale of two hearts, and the unspoken words between them._

**Chapter Four**

**(**Normal-Shane, **Bold-Mitchie, **_Italics-letter_**)**

Disclaimer: I really don't own Camp Rock. Because if I did, why would I be typing this? No, I'm just a weirdo who reads textbooks and eats too many jelly beans (hence the name.)

_A/N- I'm back! So sorry about the wait. Really sorry. But I'm still Eeeping about Kris winning. And then we had stupid finals._

_I'm so sorry about all these typos in past chapters, but I got a new computer, and the keyboard's really small, and by accident I turned off the correction thing, cause I hated how the red things looked as I was typing, and I forgot to turn it back on after I was done. Sorry again!_

_Also, just wondering, would you like it better if I didn't bold Mitchie's part? I could just say "Mitchie POV." _

_On with the story!_

Monday, April 15, 2009

My pen pal's reply came in the mail today. I had been sprawled across my unmade bed, the navy blue covers pooling in a heap on the carpet.

My guitar lay across my chest, and I sat there, strumming it gently, humming a melody.

My thoughts wandered to, of all people, Mitchie Torres. I mean, there were two parts to our relationship:

The first part (a): I was the ever popular Shane Gray, she was the ever lowly Mitchie Torres. I was rich, she was… not. I… yeah, you get the point.

So, when in A phase, I'll never let her forget that. I was really kind-of-sort-of-not-really-nevermind a jerk to her in the A phase, but I had no choice.

The second part (b): This wasn't the majority of our relationship. It probably makes up about .5 percent of it.

Because in it, social status didn't matter, because when she was defiant back to me, when I was a jerk, I was curious. And when I turned on the charm, it didn't work. And I was curious.

I always wondered about Mitchie. I mean, how could she even stand being not popular?

But I know she was smart, because she started spitballing (not literally; I was the one doing that) ideas about our project for 10 minutes straight before realized I had ditched her to go make out with Alex.

And she practically slaughtered me for that, so I was forced to actually work and write some of the essay before she gave up on me and my poor work.

"Two sentences in an hour and a half," she scolded, showing me her four pages before shooing me away, taking on the rest of the work.

But the reply from my… pen pal. (I still hate that word.) Well, it wasn't exactly what I expected. At all.

Nate screamed up at me from the kitchen, proclaiming to the whole world that the letter had arrived. "Miss Shaney's letter from her pen pal came just now!" he had shouted, driving me to storm down the stairs and snatch the letter out of his hand, shoving him against the wall.

He made another comment about "Miss Shaney," but I actually ignored him, only throwing him a glare as I headed upstairs to read my letter.

I tore it open eagerly, and threw myself on my bed, already reading.

_Dear S.J.G,_

_What is the matter with you! How can you go insulting a person if you don't even know them? You haven't even met me!_

_I actually want to write to a penpal, I mean, wan-ted. With this one letter, you turned my whole attitude around._

_Suprisingly, it didn't snow, in the middle of April! It hasn't snowed since the day after Christmas, when there was three feet of snowfall trapping relatives inside other's houses._

_I did not have a good day, thanks to you. Someone put a snake in my locker- not that you'd care._

_So, let's both pretend to enjoy this, and let me ask you some questions- oh, who am I kidding, you probably won't even care. I'm going to go and scream into a pillow, in hopes of regaining my old attitude._

_Not-so-sincerely,_

_Michelle_

Once I finished reading, I ripped it in two lividly. How dare someone talk to me like that!

God! I wanted to strangle this girl. (Unless she was a forty something year old hobo who wanted to get rich by getting all of Shane's Gray's secrets and releasing them to the press…) How dare she insult me, Shane Gray! I considered severing all ties with the pen pal (yeah, a real pal,) but couldn't bring myself to do it, imagining my mother's heartbroken look if I told her.

That's it. I can't stop now. I'll have to keep conversing with this Michelle. I guess I can try being a little nicer.

Because, much like Mitchie, this Michelle interested me, sparked my curiosity. But it was acceptable with Michelle. I mean, I'd never meet her, so I can drop the rich thing and she'd never know of Shane Gray's despicable behavior.

Yes, that's what I'll do. Now, all I had to do was be buddy-buddy with mitchie. After all, what way would be better to learn to be nice and charming (which I am, already. I just need… to know how to be that with other people.) than to learn from mitchie, the Queen of niceness! Well, besides from the way she treats me.

Wednesday, April 17, 2009

Well, I quickly set out to accomplish the goal I had set for myself. It iddn't go too well.

It looked bad from the moment I strolled over, jauntily flipping my hair out of my eyes. Mitchie sat, slumped on a corner of a park bench outside of school, near the parking lot. Her back was towards me, so I couldn't see her face.

I invited myself to sit down, taking the other side of the wooden bench, feeling the screws driven into the wood as I placed my hands palms down on the rough surface.

"Yo, Mitch," I called casually, throwing an arm across the back of the bench lazily.

"What do you want, Shane." she replied in a waspish tone, trying to come off as annoyed but not sad, but I knew there was something wrong. I could hear the despair in her voice, and could just barely detect tear tracks on her face.

I moved closer, reaching out a hand, placing it on her shoulder. She shrugged it off angrily.

"Come on, Mitchie. I know something's wrong. You can tell me." I forgot about why I had come to talk with her, I forgot about how I was Shane Gray, I forgot about Michelle, and I forgot about how me and Mitchie weren't even friends. Instead, I just focused on Mitchie, and how she was in pain, and how I instinctively wanted to help her, and not just for my own good, for once. This was a once in a lifetime moment.

She slowly swivled to face me, a few tears still leaking out of her big brown eyes and onto her pale face.

Mitchie opened her mouth to speak, sniffling. But the next words that spilled out of her mouth were NOT what I expected.

"I- I…."

_Ooh, I left you with a cliffie! I'm sorry. But I'll try to work on this more rapidly, and get chapters out faster. I promise, I WILL try. I just had a bit of writer's block. But I know what's going to happen, now._

_So, review! They make my day, and make me smile, and ,ake me feel all warm-fuzzy-good inside,_

_Thanks again!_

_XOXO- jellybellybean101_


	6. Chapter 5

**Unwritten**

_A tale of hearts, and the unspoken words between them._

**Chapter Four**

Disclaimer: I am a insane wackadoo who is obsessed with Kris Allen and the Jonas Brothers, and hates finals and loves the Guardians of Time Trilogy and wants a puppy so, so, so, so bad, and…. Oh yeah, I don't own Camp Rock. Then I would be an insane wackadoo… I'd be a rich insane wackadoo.

A/N- Wow! Thank you all so much for reviewing. You truly make my days so much brighter, however cheesy that sounds. Just remember, all you who story alert but don't review, I have a phone book! (somewhere.) And I'm not afraid to use it.

OK, in school, we had to do this stupid poetry project, and then we had to read them out loud, and now I have "anger issues." So here's the poem, before you read this chapter! Tell me what you think! 

_Sweet Revenge_

It's that one thing that makes us tick.

It makes me want to flick

that nagging older brother

into the ravenous dragon's open jaws,

and it'll swallow him with a scratch of its claws.

5 That nagging, teasing, older brother

Makes my anger smolder

Like a bright red phoenix

igniting into glowing flame,

leaving nothing behind but a pile of ashes- his death proclaimed.

My patience is stretching, on a thin rubber band,

10 and my lividness set to a flare,

and with a kick of his kickstand,

and a sweep of his hair,

he flies down the street

and calls me a "cheat."

15 Then--- SNAP!

The elastic splits in two,

And I transpose into the body

of an enormous, fire-breathing dragon with a "ZAP!"

This'll do.

And I lose it, snatching that nagging, teasing, good-for-nothing brother

by his scrawny, ungrateful neck

20 And ZOOM into the sky, where the houses on our block are each a little speck.

Shooting through the air, the clouds dance and cat-call,

Chuckling at him, at his downfall.

We soar through the sky,

Where that brother whimpers and cries.

25 "But there's still more," says I,

As the clouds say goodbye.

We breeze past cool oceans,

past smooth canyons,

over housetop after housetop

30 for miles and miles,

until we finally stop -

and I smile.

We're over a volcano so giant,

at a volcano so deep.

35 And without further judgement,

no hesitation, not a peep,

I drop that nagging, teasing, good-for-nothing "I'm so great" brother in

with a satisfying plop,

With a satisfying plop (oh, yea)

in a volcano so deep (in a place so far away.)

40 And with a strangled sob and an "Oh!"

he sinks below,

below the oozing, bubbling, red lava of the volcano.

(In a volcano so deep,

in a land far away,

surely you knew that's what I was to say.)

45So there big brother so great,

You've met your fate,

at the hands of a dragon of Norway

In a volcano far away,

In a volcano far away.

It's terrible, right? I'm terribly sorry. On with the story!

Shane POV

I waited with baited breath as Mitchie struggled to speak. What possibly could be wrong? Did her dog die? (If she had one.) Did she not finish our project due today? Is she moving? Has she been diagnosed with a life threatening disease that gives her only only days to live? WHAT?

"Come on, Mitchie," I sighed impatiently. It wasn't the right thing to say to a person who was sobbing and trying to say something important, because she slapped me across the face, hard.

I put a palm to my stinging cheek, sputtering, as Mitchie cried, " I can't believe I was about to tell you anything! Jerk." She rushed away, leaving me feeling extremely stupid.

I stood there, my leather guitar case leaning against the park bench, my backpack slung against my back. Everyone stared at me, at my stinging cheek. "What are you looking at?" I snarled, before snatching my guitar and stalking away, all traces of kindness hurled from me.

I strode purposefully across campus, not missing the many glares and whispers directed toward me. I pushed through a pack of giggling girls and entered the parking lot, heading towards my BMW car, situated between a forest green Hummer belonging to a football player, and the pink Corvette of my girlfriend, Alex.

Oh, man, Alex! I was supposed to drive her home in her car, walk back here to pick up my car, swing around my house, where I would change into "date clothes," then pick up Alex and head to the resturant Viaco before catching a movie. (I think I'm more of a personal assistant that she can use when she pleases, rather than a boyfriend.)

Who cares? These past few days I have lost my interest in Alex, and wonder why I made the decision to date Alex in the first place. I think I thought she was hot, but I've been rapidly forgetting that thought, too.

I threw myself in the front seat of my car before slowling backing out of the spot, turning and heading out of the parking lot. I had no idea where, just anywhere but Alex's or home.

The rain pounded on my windshield, creating a steady rhythm, but it soon became more than a simple rainstorm. I pitied anyone out in this, I thought to myself, as I rounded a corner. I could hardly see the car ahead of me; everything was just dim outlines. Thunder begam to sound, and lightning flashed, illuminating everything momentarily.

Then, I caught sight of a figure hunched over, feebly holding an umbrella over her head. She was soaked, and her dark jacket clung to her wet skin. As she stepped out onto the walkway to cross the street, two things happened simultaniously.

First, the music note adorned umbrella turned inside out from the powerful wind gusts. The rain began to fully pelt the girl, and she lost the grip on the wooden handle quickly, letting it sail away into the wind, disappearing.

This distracted the girl from seeing a car speeding down the road, right towards her! The girl stood still, her feet glued to the pavement. The car moved steadily closer-

I leaped out of my car, pulling a hood over my head as I screamed, "MOVE!!!!!!" But the girl was terrified, and couldn't move. I continued to rush towards her. The car and I both soared to her, the arrogant wind impeding us, slowing me down. As the car reached the girl, I barreled into her, knocking her and me onto the sidewalk. The car fled the scene, continuing down the street.

I sighed, then looked down at the trembling girl. "Hey, you ok—" I halted, my mouth dropping open at the sight of Mitchie Torres lying under me.

Her dark hair was plastered to her face, like the look of terror still there. Her clothes were soaking, clinging to her like a scared child to its mother. Her big brown eyes stared wide at mine, and smudged mascara running down her face. Her eyes were big and puffy from crying, and there were dark rings circlign her eyes.

It was then I realized just how close me and Mitchie were to each other. My face was a few mere inches away from hers, and I felt her exhale, the warm air blowing on our face.

My eyes flickered from her eyes to her mouth, surprisingly. I licked my own lips unconciously, then leaned down, closing the distance between us. Mitchie looked panicked as I pressed my lips to hers for a smooth, wet (oh, come one, it was raining like cats and dogs!) kiss. It lasted for only a moment, my lips just brushing hers.

I pulled away, my face heating up, much like Mitchie's. I was sure I looked as mortified as she did.

"Sorry, Sorry, Sorry," I muttered, racking my brain for a possible excuse. "Uh… I thought you almost died. And you're pretty cool."

"Uh… huh," Mitchie whispered, still recovering from A) almost being run over by a car, B) me saving her, C) me kissing her, and D) me saying she was "pretty cool."

"So…" I began, getting up, dusting myself off, then sticking out a hand to help Mitchie up, "Friends?"

_**A/N- It was extremely terrible, right? I'm sorry! But I did update quick, didn't I?**_

_**Alright, so please tell me what you thought about this chapter and the poem, and, most importantly… the KISS!!!!! (Bet you weren't expecting that. Actually, I wasn't, either. I was planning that bits and pieces of the last two chapters to come later. Oh well. Go with the flow!!!!)**_

_**And what was Mitchie going to say???????? I'll have her POV soon!!!!**_

_**So, one more question- What do YOU think is gonna happen next? Please tell me, because I might incorporate some of your ideas in the story!!!!! (with your penname, of course. **__****__**) **_

_**Thanks for being the best people ever!**_

_**Love you all!!!!**_

_**Jellybellybean101**_


End file.
